by James Luceno
He stopped at the shuttle's hatch to communicate with Droma over the helmet comlink a final time. "Any reply?"
"Nothing," Droma told him once more. "The shuttle must have taken a hit without our noticing. Keep your suit tight."
"Yeah, thanks," Han said.
He switched off the rifle's safety, brought a gloved hand to the external hatch release, and moved into the shuttle's airlock. Once the hatch had resealed and the airlock had cycled, he raised the rifle to his midsection and hit the internal hatch release.
No one met him at the door.
"I'm inside," he relayed to Droma. "Pressure, gravity, and atmosphere are all operative. I'm going into the passenger compartment first."
Opening the hatch, he stepped inside. A grainy black substance, which crunched underfoot, covered the deck plates and nearly every horizontal surface. Han stooped to take a pinch between his gloved fingers and bring it to the helmet's faceplate. "Some kind of black stuff all over the place," he said into the comlink. "Like tiny nut husks or something."
"Any sign of Reck?"
Han moved down the aisle and gave a start as he came to the forward row of seats. Slumped there were three of Reck's comrades, their faces hideously contorted and their shirts soaked with blood that had cascaded from eyes, ears, and noses.
"What is it?" Droma asked in anxious response to Han's brief outcry.
"Three dead - from I don't even know what. Massive blood vessel ruptures, it looks like."
"You're certain the shuttle didn't depressurize?"
"Even if it did, this is like nothing I've ever seen." Han glanced at the open forward hatch. "I'm moving into the cockpit."
Inside he found the same black grit, as well as Reck, Capo, and the one Han thought to be a Yuuzhan Vong - all dead and similarly drenched in blood. Open and overturned on the floor was the case the enemy agent had carried. Close by lay the body of the vicious creature that had sent Elan's ooglith masquer into a panic.
"Reck's dead," Han said into the comlink. "They're all dead."
"The females, too?"
"No sign of them. Unless they're in cargo."
Han took one last look at Reck. "Down you go," he said, mostly to himself.
He walked back through the passenger compartment to the rear hold and hit the hatch release. "Found them," he told Droma, even before the hatch had pocketed itself.
On a large square of deck grating lay Elan and Vergere, unconscious but otherwise unharmed. The hold was free of black husks. Han put his arm under Elan's narrow shoulders and gently lifted her. Her intense blue eyes blinked open, then went wide in fright. She flailed in his arms, her sudden movements causing Vergere to stir, as well.
"It's me - Han!" he said through the EVA suit's external speaker.
Elan began to relax. "They drugged us," she said groggily, then glanced around in confused apprehension. "Where are they? What happened? Why are you wearing a space suit?"
He helped her to her feet and slowly led her into the passenger compartment. Her foot had scarcely touched the black grit when she gasped and stood petrified.
" Bo'tous! " she said, in what Han assumed was Yuuzhan Vong. "A bioweapon - an airborne blood agent!"
"This black stuff is bo -whatever?"
Elan shook her head. "What you see is the aftermath of bo'tous - a harmless residue." She gestured to the forward seats. "What they inhaled killed them."
Vergere stepped from the cargo hold and stifled a scream.
"Everyone but you two are dead," Han said.
Elan stared at him in bewilderment. "But who did this?"
"That's what I'd like to know. Could the Peace Brigade have been carrying some of that ... stuff?"
"Yes, possibly. They had a dovin basal and an unmasker. They might have had bo'tous , as well." She looked at Han. "Perhaps they planned to use it on passengers aboard the starliner."
"Why didn't it affect you?"
"On launch from the Queen of Empire , they sealed us into the compartment where you found us." She held his gaze. "We Yuuzhan Vong are immune, in any case."
Han nodded noncommittally and activated the comlink. "Droma, meet me in the docking arm. I'm bringing them aboard."
"You'd better be quick about it," Droma replied rapidly. "That warship's headed right for us!"
TWENTY-SIX With missiles from the Yuuzhan Vong frigate slamming against her shields and detonating to all sides, the Millennium Falcon raced back toward the still-immobile starliner. Beams from the Thurse 's main batteries lashed blue light at the frigate, but to no apparent effect.
"You're telling me it jumped that far in a second?"
Han yelled at Droma while he fought to stabilize his ship.
"That's exactly what I'm telling you! One second it was there, the next it was practically right on top of us!"
Han's hands flew across the cockpit console. "Angle the rear deflectors! If we can't outrun them, we can at least try to stay in one piece!" He looked over his shoulder at Elan and Vergere. "Get to the acceleration couch in the forward hold!"
Droma waited until they had disappeared to say, "Vergere's not an extragalactic, Han. I don't know the species, but I have seen her type before."
Han glanced at him. "What are you telling me? That she's an impostor?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe only that those two don't add up."
"You don't trust them?"
"Do you?"
Han considered his answer, then shook his head. "Something's been nagging at me. Why would the Yuuzhan Vong send a warship to back up the Peace Brigade? If they knew Elan was aboard the Queen , they would have done the job themselves. And another thing even if some Yuuzhan Vong bioweapon escaped aboard the shuttle, that doesn't explain the shuttle's decelerating the way it did."
"Unless the Yuuzhan Vong deliberately slowed it down."
Han made his lips a thin line. "Exactly what I was thinking. You remember Reck's man reporting that the corvette was glitched - that they couldn't disengage from the Queen ?"
Droma nodded. "The corvette pulled the Queen from hyperspace, but suddenly was unable to break away from her."
"Which could happen if the Yuuzhan Vong tasked the dovin basal aboard the corvette to hold fast to the Queen ."
The Falcon shook as a projectile caught up with her. Han and Droma flinched, but dozens more missiles streaked past the ship to port and starboard.
"I'm tempted to see what happens if we stop taking evasive action."
"Not too tempted, I hope," Droma said worriedly. Han growled. "I've gone up against the Yuuzhan Vong ships before. They just don't miss this often. It's like they're doing everything they can to convince us they want their property back -"
"When they actually want Elan and Vergere to remain where they are."
Han rubbed his jaw. "But why the ruse?"
"Something unrevealed," Droma said leadingly. "The Queen of Air and Darkness."
Han scowled. "I don't put any stock in card games."
Droma shrugged. "Watching you play sabacc, I would have thought otherwise."
Han fell silent for a moment, then reached for his pack and located his bolstered blaster. Getting to his feet, he buckled the holster around his hips and fastened the thigh grip.
"Take over," he told Droma.
He hurried to the forward hold, where Elan and Vergere were seated side by side on the acceleration couch.
"Can you outspeed the warship?" Elan asked in a way that was meant to sound guileless.
"Probably not," he told her. "But I think your people will make us think we did."
She looked at him questioningly.
"I mean that I'm beginning to think they don't want you back. That this whole thing - your defection, maybe even this battle - is part of some elaborate scheme your superiors cooked up."
"You don't care that I have important information for the Jedi?" she said in a scurrilous but composed voice.
Wrestling with uncertainty, Han paced the hold. "I don't know what to thi
nk." He came to a halt and regarded the two of them. "I suppose I could take you back to the Queen and let Jedi Master Skywalker decide."
"Yes," Elan said hurriedly, "you must at least do that."
Han heard her. But what struck him was the look of shocked recognition that played briefly over Vergere's exotic features.
"You're right," he said at last. "I guess I'm just being overly suspicious."
He turned, as if to head to the cockpit, then stopped and said, "That creature that shredded your ooglith masquer aboard the Queen - does it respond only to a Yuuzhan Vong handler or will it adapt to anyone?"
"Only a Yuuzhan Vong," Elan said.
Han saw her stiffen, if ever so slightly. "You said the Yuuzhan Vong are immune to that bioweapon that got loose aboard the shuttle."
Face tightened with hatred, she nodded.
And Han grinned.
"You just remembered that I found the handler dead in the cockpit - a Yuuzhan Vong handler. You loosed that bioweapon from the safety of the cargo hold. When the toxin had dispersed enough, you came out and tipped over the handler's carry case, knowing it would draw my attention. You were never drugged. That was all part of the act."
Han's smile straightened and he cocked his head toward the Falcon 's starboard ring corridor. "Droma! Take us about. Steer a course for the Yuuzhan Vong ship!"
Though muted by distance, Droma's "What?" teemed with disbelief.
"You heard me. Unless I'm seriously mistaken, they won't fire on us." Drawing his blaster, he ordered Elan and Vergere to rise from the couch. "I'm not taking any chances with you two."
"You're making a big mistake," Elan said.
"It wouldn't be the first time, sister. Stand up and get moving."
He gestured them into the portside ring corridor and marched them aft to the Falcon 's noisy rear compartment. Scrunched between the deck and the exhaust conduits of the bellowing power core, and to either side of an access shaft that had once contained a freight elevator, were the ship's escape pods.
Roomy, state-of-the-art spheroids in keeping with the Falcon 's status as a family vehicle, the pods were launched through ventral hatches by explosive separator charges, and featured such amenities as padded g-couches; a sophisticated sensor, communications, and flight-control suite; an automatically activated distress beacon; maneuvering jets; soft-landing coils; and enough rations and survival gear to keep two or three people equipped for a good while.
Han considered confining the bogus defectors in one of the pods, but quickly changed his mind. For all he knew, they had some way of poisoning the Falcon the way they had Reck's shuttle.
He approached one of the portside pods and slammed his hand on the hatch release stud. When the broad, circular hatch had irised open, Han motioned to it. "You're going back where you belong, ladies, marked 'returned to sender.'"
He waved the blaster, and Elan climbed nimbly into the pod. Vergere was about to follow when Elan suddenly brushed her aside, grabbed hold of Han, and tugged him headfirst into the sphere. Slamming him into the curved hull, she backed toward the still-open hatch, her mouth an intentional rictus of retaliation.
Han shook his head in an attempt to uncross his eyes. He raised the blaster and squeezed the trigger, only to realize that it was depleted. Staring at the useless thing, he felt his jaw drop.
"Careless," Elan said as she continued to sidle toward the hatch. "But don't worry, I'll gladly put you out of your misery."
"Huh?" he asked dizzily.
She grinned malevolently. "One breath for you, one left for the Jedi. Breathe deeply, Han ."
Crouched to spring through the hatch, she forced an interminable exhale. Then, whirling about, she leapt for the hatch. But the Falcon , dodging fire, slewed acutely to starboard and the hatch irised shut. Dumped onto his back, Han again got the wind knocked out of him. At the same time, Elan hit the closing hatch and rebounded.
Bug-eyed with fear, she scrambled to her feet and tried desperately to force the hatch open. She balled her hands and pounded on the porthole with all her might. Expertly, she side-kicked it, then threw her weight against the hatch repeatedly, but it refused to budge.
Dumbfounded and still unable to catch his breath, Han heard a voice say, Poisoned air - though he couldn't be sure just whose voice he was hearing, or indeed if it was actually a voice or a thought that had come to him in response to what he'd observed on the shuttle.
As if on its own, his hand seized the survival tool clipped to his belt. Fumbling frantically with the compressed oxygen feature, he finally managed to shove the twin-tanked device to his lips and bite down on the spatulate mouthpiece to start the oxygen flowing. Through the pod porthole, he caught a brief glimpse of Vergere, but he couldn't tell if she was attempting to open the hatch or secure it further.
Elan swung away from the hatch in dread, her lips pressed tightly together and her face a blotchy red. Staring at Han, she made a grab for him, but he sidestepped and tripped her in the process. Collapsing to her hands and knees, she threw a baleful look over her shoulder, cursing Han with every cell in her body, then inhaled hoarsely.
Her body went rigid. A sudden cough sent blood fountaining from her mouth. From eyes, ears, and nose it poured as she lifted her head and howled in anguish. Mouth twisted around the lifesaving inhaler, Han backed away, pressing himself to the curved wall and averting his gaze. Spots formed before his eyes, and he thought he might pass out. Then the spots began to precipitate and scurry madly around the pod.
The black residue of Elan's toxic exhalation crawling all over him, he staggered for the hatch and hammered the release stud with the heel of his hand. Wild-eyed he hastened to the pod's comlink, only to find it dead, owing perhaps to a Yuuzhan Vong projectile that had penetrated the Falcon 's weakened shields. He brushed frantically at the tiny life-forms and crushed dozens at a time with stomps of his feet.
A warning tone sounded from the survival tool. He was fast running out of air. Eyes bulging from his head, he slammed his fists against the padded hatch and porthole. He was down to recycling his last breath when the hatch suddenly irised open, and he pitched headfirst to the floor of the rear hold.
Gulping air, he looked up to see Droma standing over him.
"What made you come back here?" Han asked between breaths.
"A feeling," Droma told him.
Han gestured weakly to the pod. "The bugs ..."
Droma caught sight of Elan's bloodied corpse and momentarily froze. Then he quickly resealed the hatch and began killing escapees with his hands and feet. Shortly, some of the few remaining critters began to expire on their own, transforming into featherweight husks.
Han propped himself against the bulkhead and wiped sweat from his forehead. "That's two I owe you."
"I'll add it to your tab," Droma said, panting.
A ship-rattling explosion brought Han fully alert. "Where's Vergere?"
Droma glanced down the ring corridor and shook his head.
"Get back to the cockpit," Han said. "I'll find her."
Another powerful strike sent the Falcon on edge, and out of the starboard ring corridor flew Elan's familiar, crashing into Han just as he was getting to his feet. The collision sent him careening against the sealed escape pod and the hatch release stud. The hatch irised open once more and a few last critters leapt through the door and found purchase on the front of Han's shirt. Stuttering a phobic cry, he whisked them away, then turned his attention to Vergere, who had planted herself in the center of the hold, arms at her sides and her reverse-articulated legs tensed for action.
"Don't make this hard on yourself," Han warned.
Another projectile found the ship, rocking it to its ribs. Droma's voice wailed from an intercom annunciator in the bulkhead. "Han, you sure the Yuuzhan Vong don't want them back? They're being awfully convincing!"
Han kept his gaze on Vergere and adopted a combat stance. "They're gonna have to settle for half," he mumbled.
Vergere brought out
her right hand to show Han a drinking bulb she had obviously grabbed from the galley. Squeezing the bulb, she suddenly brought it to her right eye as if to suction brimming tears.
Han hurled himself at her, but Vergere executed an agile leap that carried her out of reach, then another that front-flipped her straight into the escape pod. Han made a lunge for the pod, but an evasive maneuver by Droma set the ship on edge once more, and Han went sailing past the pod and a quarter of the way down the portside ring corridor. By the time he regained his balance and had stumbled back to the rear hold, Vergere was already arming the pod's separator charges. Han reached through the hatch for her, only to have his hands deflected.
"Thank you, Han Solo, for giving me the chance to return to my own kind," she told him. Without warning, she tossed the filled bulb at him. "See that this reaches the jedi."
Reflexively, Han caught the bulb, then tossed it aside. He threw himself at the closing hatch, but not in time. The pod's launch warning system came to life with flashing light and metered sound.
Han beat a fast retreat into the rear hold and flattened himself to the deck grating as the pod launched with a concussive thump that made his ears pop.
"Blast!" he screamed, yanking himself upright.
Rushing to the cockpit, he found Droma still steering a slalom course directly for the Yuuzhan Vong frigate.
"The other way, the other way!" Han screamed, heaving himself into the pilot's seat.
"Make up your mind!" Droma yelled back.
Han took the controls and threw the Falcon into an ascending loop, hoping to catch sight of the launched escape pod on the downward curve. For a moment he had the sphere in the ship's tracking reticle, but he lost it just as quickly as a Yuuzhan Vong missile streaked across the Falcon 's bow.
The flaming projectile appeared to lock on to the pod like a predator hot on a blood scent. A blinding explosion forced Han to glance away, and when he looked back the pod was gone. A second later, however, he thought he glimpsed it out of the corner of his eye, plunging toward the night side of a heavily cratered planetoid. Then again, it was possible that the frigate's dovin basal had already captured the pod and brought it on board.